


Sa Préférée

by HannahLydia



Series: Kinktober '18 [1]
Category: BioShock Infinite
Genre: Alternate Universe - Paris, F/M, Face-Sitting, Kinktober, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 16:54:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16163021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HannahLydia/pseuds/HannahLydia
Summary: He knew just how to push her buttons. He played her like an instrument, made her sing for him. Now he was pressing his face into her with such reckless abandon, as if he needed her more than he needed oxygen...Short but sweet 'face sitting' prompt for day one of Kinktober '18. Complete PWP.





	Sa Préférée

This was her favourite seat. Squatting with her knees ghosting the headboard, toes working into the bed sheets and driving her hips subtly to and fro above Booker's eager mouth, Elizabeth tipped her head back and released a series of hitching, escalating moans.

' _Eager' -_ that was certainly the word for it; Booker's tongue was lapping at her clit with such rapid intensity that she was struggling to stay upright. He was good at this; if she didn't know any better she'd say that he was an _expert_ at this. Her legs could barely hold her, muscles in her thighs spasming whenever the strokes of his tongue caught her just right. It was all she could do not to smother him with her full weight.

His stubble was soft against her where it had grown out a few days longer than he would usually allow, yet it still generated a blissful sensation whenever she rocked against it - half-ticklish, half-electrifying. Gone were the days when the fine prickle of his facial hair had either created unwanted friction or outright burned her, it was something her body had long grown used to.

Booker's mouth was hot and wet against her, her own arousal smeared across his lips and chin from where he had been probing deep at her core only minutes ago. Now he had set his sights elsewhere, nose-deep in the dark curls of her pubic hair.

Elizabeth reached for the headboard and held on for dear life, really grinding her hips now. One of Booker's hands was clutching onto the swell of her thigh hard enough to leave an impression, while the other, scarred fist was curled around his shaft and pumping in time with the maddening pace of her thrusts.

His name tore past Elizabeth's lips, almost harrowing in it's urgency.

She was reaching her peak. Colours were already beginning to explode in her mind like fireworks, losing her grip on reality as Booker sought to drive her hard over that edge.

He knew just how to push her buttons. He played her like an instrument, made her sing for him.

Now he was pressing his face into her with such reckless abandon, as if he needed her more than he needed oxygen, and when he opened his eyes to glance up at her - a burning and fixed gaze that Elizabeth couldn't hold for long - they both knew she was on the cusp. Those were not the eyes of someone gauging a reaction, Booker stared at her knowing full well what he was doing to her. He was willing her to come, a silent but tangible command thrumming in the air between them. The furrowed arch of his brows and his lidded green gaze screamed it as loud as he might have screamed it with words.

When Elizabeth came, she felt as if she was falling into those eyes.

 


End file.
